


False Facing

by Hallianna



Series: The Detective and the Vault Dweller [5]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, and reality is a bitch, dual storylines, the one where shit gets real
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-08-31 05:20:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8565583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hallianna/pseuds/Hallianna
Summary: It's a turning point - for her, for him.





	

_With fresh bullets in his gun and a fresh bullet wound in his shoulder, Nick was ready for anything thrown at him._

_Because deep down, rage had been swelling in his breast.  Rage so pure and hot it could have blinded him in any other circumstance.  But right now, it fueled him.  It cast off any false bravado he might have felt, giving him tunnel vision, a steady hand, and a booming voice that called out, “Get your ass down here, shitface, because I know you’re up there and I know you’ve got that little boy!”_

_And the rage seethed.  Pulsing.  Pounding.  Turning him to stone._

_He’d need that armor.  The six men with guns and a woman coming down the stairs.  Except she was unarmed and very obviously not pulling a six year old boy along with her._

_And he thought, please let me be doing the right thing._

_I don’t want to let her down._

 

* * *

  
“Say it again, sweetheart.”

Nina’s eyes lit up with surprise and delight.  Nick’s voice could only be described as _delicious._

Butterflies swarmed in her stomach, typhoon-like.  Had it been any other man, she would have wondered if he was playing with her.  But his deadpan humor and occasional sarcasm aside, Nick wasn’t the type to play games.

And the look on his face told her the same thing.

So she leaned forward, feeling him grip her hip harder as they swayed, and said, “I want you, Nick.”

“You certainly don’t mince words,” he replied, voice tight.

She smiled. “Are you calling me a flirt?”

Nick shook his head, a smirk spreading across his face.  “If I am?”

The butterflies circled, forming a tight cylinder of anticipation and _need_ low in her gut, making her take in a sharp breath.  “Then I take it as a compliment.  That, and the fact that you aren’t ducking my attempts anymore.”

He chuckled and Nina could have swooned.  And she wasn’t the swooning type but right now, in his arms, in this club, on a nearly dark dance floor while she was wearing _this dress_ ….oh, she could just tumble into his arms and the heady, hot sound of his voice and never surface.

Something flickered across his face as he studied her, gold eyes tracing her features.  She felt that gaze like a caress.  “You’re damn hard to say no to,” he finally said, voice even deeper than before.  The hand on her hip slid back and down, pushing gently against the small of her back.  

_Oh, God.  Lower.  Please, lower._

His good hand, which had been holding her left one, now cupped her cheek so gently she shivered.  “I gotta admit, Nina, even after all the flirting you keep doing with me, I’m surprised you haven’t made the first move.”

It took her a moment to put together what was happening.  It was a moment too long.  His thumb slid down her cheek and then brushed over her lower lip.  Her reaction was automatic.

A surprised, “Oh!” slipped from her and he chuckled again.  Her blood _boiled_ as she was held captive by that thumb.  She swayed against him, certain _this time_ she was going to swoon.  

And yet….he did nothing.  He stared at her, gently glowing eyes raking over her face.  But he made no move past rubbing his thumb over her lip.

_What is he waiting on?  Why won’t he just…._

She felt frustration rise, fighting for dominance over her lust.  

“Do you want me to beg?” she said, her voice a purr.  She couldn’t hold back anymore and quite honestly, if she got any more frustrated, the patrons of The Third Rail would get a show they’d talk about for years.  “Does Nick Valentine actually want me to get on the floor and beg for his attentions?  To plead for scraps?”

He seemed to contemplate it for a second, a suggestive smirk on his face.  “That wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me, would it?”

She answered him with a shove.  Back, back, back they went, her hands insistent, pushing at him.

She was on _fire_ , that incessant need setting every nerve, every neuron alight.  Sending tremors and pulses through her body; and the energy pooled, molten heat, at her core.

She didn’t even stop to fuss with the handle of the door.  Nick’s body hit the metal and the door swung inward.  He stumbled but she steadied him, her arm possessive around his waist.  “It’s no fun if half the party lands on the floor before he’s supposed to,” she said, eyes nearly black with lust.

Nick groaned.  Actually _groaned_.

It was a lightning bolt of desire through her.  Tough and low and rumbly and a bit rough….just like the man himself.

And he didn’t stop her.  He didn’t stop her from pushing him back one more time, a wicked smile across her face.

When she was fire and fierce and needing, no one could say no to her.

_Nate couldn’t.  And now Nick wouldn’t._

His back hit the wall, the force of it making the tacky lamp nearby shake.  

Nina pushed his hat back with the tip of a finger and, voice liquid with desire, said, “Now what are you going to do, Detective Valentine?”

He captured her hand in his, snaking his free arm around her waist once more, and pulled her flush against his body.  She moaned softly, reaching up to him in earnest, ready to pull him down into a kiss.

He met her halfway.

His lips slid across hers, warm and dry, and she could have collapsed from the relief.  But the respite was oh so temporary as he pulled back, gaze intent on her.  The coil of _want_ so tight in her belly began to spiral outward, touching every fiber of her.

“Nick, _please_.”  She was on the verge of sobbing, shaking so hard from her own need she thought she might fly apart and scatter to the wind.

He gripped her hard enough that her breasts rubbed against the thin material of his shirt.  She felt the unyielding chest beneath that.  And then his lips were on hers once again and she could have died.

Because this was Nick _kissing her_.  He was hesitant, unsure.  Letting her lead, letting her take them down this crazy, wild path full of unknown.  But it was Nick and his mouth was on hers and it was right.

She could have climbed the tallest building and screamed her relief and triumph to the entire Commonwealth.

Nina made a little noise against his mouth, a mix of frustration and pleading.  He froze and her eyes flew open and she pulled back.  

_Oh shit.  Oh shit.  I fucked it up -_

And then he was actually kissing her, mouth moving against hers, capturing her body with his hands.  A rumble from deep down in his throat spilled out between their mouths. Something primal and gut-clenching.

It sounded exactly like a man in need.  And it made her wet.

Nina rubbed her thighs together, desperate for friction.  Desperate for _more_.

She licked into his mouth, the faint tang of metal cloying on her tongue.  But she didn’t care.

Because this was Nick.  Wonderful, loving, amazing _Nick_.

He shifted against the wall, pulling her with him. She took the chance to slip a knee between his legs, her dress parting in a shimmery wave and revealing a high slit.  On some instinct, his metal hand trailed down over her waist, following the curve of her hip.

He froze when his hand touched bare skin.

“You won’t hurt me,” she murmured against his lips.  “Touch me.  Please.”

A point of cold, no bigger than a fingertip, traced over her thigh.  Nina squirmed against him.  

“Something wrong, doll?” he asked, mouth hovering over hers.  

“Not enough.”   _So not enough, not even fucking close._

Hesitation flashed once again over his face.  “Maybe we should...hell, I don’t know.  Slow down?”

_No.  No.  NO.  Definitely not._

She needed passion, hands and mouth stroking her fire higher and higher, until she was blind and deaf and hoarse with pleasure, the slick of her own want drenching her thighs and her body lax in afterglow.

“I just - Nina,” he said, leaning away from her.  She was a mess and she knew it - hair disheveled, lips swollen, chest heaving.  “Don’t you think we need to sort this out?  There’s some, some things we haven’t talked about.”  

“And we can do that,” she replied quickly, inches from tearing all their clothes off and taking him on that old couch in the corner.  “But right now?  You want to talk right fucking now?”

He laughed hoarsely, the sound hitting Nina square in the chest.  “I never said I have the best of timing.  I just….I worry.”

Recognition flickered in her eyes and she drew back, just a little.  Enough to give them both space.  Because as badly as she wanted, as much as she needed, she wanted Nick only if he was willing to give.  

And she’d been foolish and selfish enough to not consider that he might have more than a few reservations.

And his hand moved away from the tempting strip of her thigh and back to a more respectable…. _more companionable_ ….place high on her waist.

Her gaze flicked to the old but clean couch in the corner.  “We can sit,” she said slowly, trying to not let the heavy drumming of her own need pound through her words.  

Nick led her silently over to the couch.  She sat beside him, hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder.  

“Gotta admit, Nick.  It’s a bit of a buzzkill to go from that,” and she gestured to the wall that had been propping them up, “to something more….friendly.”

He gave a one-sided smile but his tone spoke of something else.  Doubt?  Regret? “That wasn’t friendly?  Sure felt friendly to me.”

She nudged his shoulder with her free hand and yanked playfully on his tie. “Oh, it was real friendly.”  She arched an eyebrow, mouth quirking into a smile even as dread pooled in her stomach.  “You wanted to talk?”

Gently, reverently, he stroked a finger down her cheek, yellow eyes burning into her.  “Yeah, I got a….a worry.  I’ve had it since I felt this thing between us.”   She nodded, hoping the encouragement would spur him on.  “And I….dammit, this shouldn’t be so hard, but it is.”

“Nick?”

He hung his head, tone now sad.  “Nina, I can’t give you what you need.  You have to know that.  You do me more kindness than an old bot should be given.”  His head came up and he saw the look on her face, then said, “And I know what you’re going to say and I can’t stop you from saying it.  I don’t want to, actually, because every time you tell me I’m real, I’m a real man, I feel….”  He trailed off, whole hand now fussing with a ragged sleeve.

“Right.”  She said the word as a whisper.  “It feels right, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.”  His voice was rough but the frown was still present.

A fragment of understanding wormed its way through her haze.  She’d pushed, pulled, nearly tore at him in her desire.  And it hadn’t been fair of her to do that.  To walk him right to the cliff and tell him to jump without first reassuring him there was a parachute on his back and a net at the bottom to break his fall.

And that understanding was a cold reality she hated.  But it was there, insistent, breathing down her neck.

“I’m so sorry, Nick.  I shouldn’t have pushed.”

“Hey,” he replied gently, taking her hand once again.  “You’re not hearing me complain. I just...well, you know me.”

“I do,” she said, smoothing one of his lapels.  “Why do you think I fell so hard for you in the first place?”

* * *

_It should have ended in blood.  Hell, he expected it to end in blood.  No one would accuse him of being selfless, but he’d known walking into the devil’s den, gun in hand, was a mistake of courage he might not live through._

_He was okay without that.  As long as the kid came out of this alive and wound up back with his mother, Nick was okay with all of it.  Hell, he’d already been shot once and that had barely stopped him.  It might have been false courage now, as he stood in front of several beady-eyed, heavily armed punks._

_It might have been completely foolhardy, staring down these morons with six bullets in his gun and only a handful more in his coat pocket._

_But damn did he feel good when Ginny was standing in front of him, wild orange hair a crazy contrast to narrowed dark eyes.  Not armed, from what he could tell, but Ginny had always been clever._

_“Long time,” Nick said by way of greeting.  He waved a hand at the cold, bare walls of the warehouse. “Last I saw you, the digs were better.”_

_Ginny eyed him up and down for a moment, stare lingering on the gun in his hand.  “Last I saw you, detective,” she said, “you weren’t taking on charity cases.”_

_He laughed.  He couldn’t help it.  “Oh, I’m getting paid on this on, don’t worry.”_

_“About you?  I never do.”  She crossed her long arms, the sleeves of her black coat hiking up as she did so.  Nick’s trained eyes caught sight of some ragged edges and a torn pocket on the coat.  Her boots were scuffed.  The bright gold earrings she always wore looked dull._

_She’s hiding here, he thought, suddenly more concerned about what lingered in the corners where the shadows were deepest.  What defenses had she set up here to keep her safe?_

_And if she was so worried about safety, why confront him like this?_

_The whole thing stank._

_“You don’t have the boy,” he said, no question at the edges of his words.  He knew it, somehow.  The puzzle wasn’t complete, not yet, but he just knew this wasn’t where he’d find her son.  “You never had him, did you?”_

_Ginny blinked at his question and the hand at her side twitched.  “What do your instincts tell you?”_

_There was a surprising lack of bite behind her words.  Instead, a weariness, tinged with fear, coated her cadence.  A thread of that same fear snaked through him and though he dreaded the answer, he had to ask.  “Ginny, I’m going to ask this once and I figure, given our uh….long history -”_

_“That’s one way of putting it, Valentine.”_

_Nick’s jaw tensed but he shook it off.  He and Ginny had once teamed up for mutually beneficial reasons and to say it didn’t end well would be a fucking massive understatement.  So his trust in this tiny woman and her hired goons went as far as he could spit.  And he never spit._

_“That you might lie your ass off to me,” he continued, glancing around at her goons.  “But I need to know what’s going on.”_

_“You think you know this city, mister detective?” she spat, flinging an arm out to her side, her index finger visibly shaking as she pointed.  “The great Valentine knows all, right?  I gotta tell ya something, Nicky boy.  You don’t.  You’ve been so busy chasing cheaters and petty thieves that you missed the biggest thing to happen to this shithole of a city in years.”_

_Her outburst, coupled with the obvious discomfort of the men encircling them, made Valentine drop the frown from his face.  His mind whirled._

_What the fuck was she talking about?_

_Turned out, he didn’t need to ask further._

_Ginny told him everything.  And it shook his understanding of his city, and his life, to the core._

_And she started out like this._

_“What if I told you this city isn’t run by the criminals but by a company?”_


End file.
